09-10-2018, 09:42 PM
“Get out!”
Her order snapped something in his head. A spark that pulsed electricity like a live wires screaming fresh connection.
Time to go their separate ways.
He wrestled Preston to his feet followed by the partner. Preston took on the man’s weight until it was obvious the daze washing his head faded. Meanwhile, Jay gathered the weapons previously confiscated and strode to the door.
With as much commotion that he hurled them into the room, Jay kicked them out. His gaze was drawn to the crackles in the drywall opposite. “If I see you again, keep your fucking distance next time.” No negotiation. No mercy next time. Returning their firearms was a massive gesture of trust. Then he slammed the door on their faces before someone else happened onto the scene. It would be fitting for an innocent teenager to show up about then, questions rupturing tentatively sealed wounds.
When Jay returned, he planted himself in the middle of the room just to keep himself from throwing a fist into the wall. An old exercise, counting, was the fallback, but their soothing song was hollow. Shallow. How did Natalie’s dad possibly rope FBI agents into this? How did they even know where to find her? Was she being tracked? Did she tell someone where she was going?
Suspicion rallied. His heart pound a steady beat, but he stared at her unblinking anyway. Did she tell someone? What did you do?
The counting didn’t help. He paced to the window. Stormclouds bloomed darker on the horizon. Nearer. Like the weather reacted to the storm within.
Prime numbers was slightly more distracting. He counted primes. Beautiful little digits. Uncanny, indecipherable, but remarkable.
When next he moved, it was to stalk to Natalie’s stuff. Privacy be damned. He had to know if she was being tracked and Natalie was too drunk to spill the innermost churnings of her head. Her dad's tech he slipped into a pocket before it was crushed beneath heavy boots.
“Did they follow you?”
“How’d they find us?”
“Who else does your father know?”
"WHY did he do this?!"
The questions rattled like accusations, even if he wasn’t entirely sure about deciphering the difference at the moment. He had to know. If not, the flutter of paranoia might resurrect from ancient places he barely conceived existed.
When all the momentum of this chaotic tornado suddenly came to a halt. He stood upright. Back turned to her. Fists balled so hard his fingers ached. Maybe punching the agent's face in had something to do with it. Paper crunched. Breath caught in his chest. When he saw his own name, he swallowed, eyes wide with fear, and it was all over. Not so much that she knew what she knew. But about something gripped the core of his soul, twisted, yanked, and tried to dislocate it from his body. No. no. no. no.. Papers devoured. Black scoured.
He dropped it at her feet, but when he looked at her, it was with the silent turmoil of a broken trust screaming for explanation. If she was even still conscious.
She needed sleep. He had to get out of there.
Best to give them both what they needed. Else he was set up to do something he'd regret later.
Her order snapped something in his head. A spark that pulsed electricity like a live wires screaming fresh connection.
Time to go their separate ways.
He wrestled Preston to his feet followed by the partner. Preston took on the man’s weight until it was obvious the daze washing his head faded. Meanwhile, Jay gathered the weapons previously confiscated and strode to the door.
With as much commotion that he hurled them into the room, Jay kicked them out. His gaze was drawn to the crackles in the drywall opposite. “If I see you again, keep your fucking distance next time.” No negotiation. No mercy next time. Returning their firearms was a massive gesture of trust. Then he slammed the door on their faces before someone else happened onto the scene. It would be fitting for an innocent teenager to show up about then, questions rupturing tentatively sealed wounds.
When Jay returned, he planted himself in the middle of the room just to keep himself from throwing a fist into the wall. An old exercise, counting, was the fallback, but their soothing song was hollow. Shallow. How did Natalie’s dad possibly rope FBI agents into this? How did they even know where to find her? Was she being tracked? Did she tell someone where she was going?
Suspicion rallied. His heart pound a steady beat, but he stared at her unblinking anyway. Did she tell someone? What did you do?
The counting didn’t help. He paced to the window. Stormclouds bloomed darker on the horizon. Nearer. Like the weather reacted to the storm within.
Prime numbers was slightly more distracting. He counted primes. Beautiful little digits. Uncanny, indecipherable, but remarkable.
When next he moved, it was to stalk to Natalie’s stuff. Privacy be damned. He had to know if she was being tracked and Natalie was too drunk to spill the innermost churnings of her head. Her dad's tech he slipped into a pocket before it was crushed beneath heavy boots.
“Did they follow you?”
“How’d they find us?”
“Who else does your father know?”
"WHY did he do this?!"
The questions rattled like accusations, even if he wasn’t entirely sure about deciphering the difference at the moment. He had to know. If not, the flutter of paranoia might resurrect from ancient places he barely conceived existed.
When all the momentum of this chaotic tornado suddenly came to a halt. He stood upright. Back turned to her. Fists balled so hard his fingers ached. Maybe punching the agent's face in had something to do with it. Paper crunched. Breath caught in his chest. When he saw his own name, he swallowed, eyes wide with fear, and it was all over. Not so much that she knew what she knew. But about something gripped the core of his soul, twisted, yanked, and tried to dislocate it from his body. No. no. no. no.. Papers devoured. Black scoured.
He dropped it at her feet, but when he looked at her, it was with the silent turmoil of a broken trust screaming for explanation. If she was even still conscious.
She needed sleep. He had to get out of there.
Best to give them both what they needed. Else he was set up to do something he'd regret later.
Only darkness shows you the light.